


Work Experience on Sodor 4

by steamandstardust



Series: Work Experience on Sodor [4]
Category: Thomas the Tank Engine & Friends, Thomas the Tank Engine - All Media Types
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-11 22:51:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17455799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steamandstardust/pseuds/steamandstardust
Summary: Henry shares a story about a magical machine that can turn engines into people. Worried that Libby feels she is missing out, Gordon resolves to find the machine.Henry and Gordon fight over whether the machine is real or not, but end up discovering it together in the disused mine. Libby fires up the machine and she and Gordon end up swapping: he becomes a person and she becomes a steam locomotive.Gordon makes good use of his time as a human by having his way with both Henry and Libby.





	Work Experience on Sodor 4

Work Experience on Sodor #4  
Here is the final installment of this concerning little story. But don’t worry, it means I have now set up the worrying world in which I can write one off installments for your delectation. 

We learn our protagonists name. Henry experiences something unexpected. Gordon misplaces all of his dignity. And then there’s the machine…

***WARNING ADULT CONTENT***

 

“I’ve been thinking…” said Gordon.

“Dangerous,” I teased, climbing onto the buffer beam of the big blue engine.

“No really,” he pressed, “I want to ask you something important.”

I felt myself tense up. I had been dreading this, but it was inevitable. There was bound to be a conversation. After all, I had done things to Diesel that no one was going to forget in a hurry, and I had done them right in front of Gordon. Was he jealous? Was he disgusted? Or both? I lay my cheek against his, part of me braced, ready to be ordered away.

“Would you climb down so I can see you Elizabeth?” Gordon asked.

So this was it! He was going to tell me that our time was up, done with like so much scrap. I stood on the track and faced him. His paintwork shone in the winter sun, a haze of stream curling around him in the cold air. 

“Please call me Libby,” I said sadly.

“Libby…” he began.

But I couldn’t bear it, I couldn’t bear to hear him say it.

“I’m so sorry!” I cut in, “I’m so sorry that I did that to Diesel. I’m sorry that you had to watch. I understand if you think I’m dirty now, and that I smell of diesel, and if you don’t want to come near me anymore.” As much as I was trying to be brave, I let out a small sob.

Gordon’s eyes widened. The serious expression which had settled on his face vanished, and with a hiss of steam he carefully rolled closer to me.

“Oh no, you quite mistake me!” He said, “I can’t thank you enough for what you did in the Dieselworks. It is I who should be ashamed. I tricked James into going there and caused the whole bother in the first place. And what’s more…” Gordon lowered his voice, “I rather enjoyed watching you and Diesel.”

I blushed, suddenly overjoyed. Unable to stop myself, I darted forward and kissed Gordon firmly on the mouth, before drawing back again.

“Sorry, I should let you speak,” I grinned.

Gordon was flustered now, but he ploughed on as best he could.

“Yes the thing is,” he said haltingly, “I was wondering if you were, ah, feeling as if you were missing out because I am not… built like you.”

I had to hold a hand over my mouth to conceal a laugh as I watched the great engine squirm.

“I find your company very satisfying Gordon, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

He beamed self importantly.

“Well, yes… of course. But all the same, I heard a rumour that there was a machine hidden away,” he paused dramatically, “a machine that can turn metal into flesh.”

My eyes grew wide.

“It could make you… like me?” I touched Gordon’s paintwork and imagined for a moment that it was warm skin beneath a thin blue jacket. I imagined muscles instead of pistons and gasps of breath instead of steam…..

“I can see that would interest you!” Gordon exclaimed, eyebrows raised, and I realised my mouth was hanging open.

“Um, yes.”

“Come along then. Hurry, hurry!” He said.

I hopped back on board and we sped off.

I had never known Gordon to be in such an excitable mood.

“What’s got your boiler bubbling?” Percy asked him, as we crossed paths at Knapford station.

Gordon merely whistled and smiled smugly. I leaned out of the cab and shrugged at Percy.

The tracks flew past beneath us and soon we were back at Tidmouth sheds. Gordon pulled into the empty berth next to Henry, who was dozing.

“Wake up Henry!”

Henry opened one eye.

“Oh, am I late?” He cried.

“No,” said Gordon, “but that story, tell it to me again.”

“Oh, very well. But keep it under your funnel! If the Fat Controller hears us talking about it there will be trouble…”

 

Henry took a deep breath and began.

“The story goes that when the Fat Controller was young he came to Sodor and began work as a driver. There were just two engines here at that time so they worked very hard. The drivers spent an awful lot of time with their engines and in time something strange began to happen. The young driver and his engine fell in love.”

“Bust my buffers!” Cried Percy. I jumped as I hadn’t noticed he had sneaked up to listen.

“Shhhh!” Hissed Henry, “we shouldn’t be taking about this!”

“I won’t tell anyone,” promised Percy, “please tell me what happened.”

Henry sighed, but carried on.

“Well, for some time they simply enjoyed each other’s company, but in time it became difficult. The railway began to expand and the driver felt sure that no one would understand what he shared with his engine. He became obsessed with the idea of a machine that could change an engine into a person. Whenever he wasn’t driving he worked on idea after idea. Until finally he built what he called the ‘Inverter’, a great machine that could turn metal into flesh.”

“Fizzling fireboxes,” whistled James.

“Who else is here?” Cried Henry.

“Just me,” said Thomas.

“And me,” said Emily.

“Also me,” said Edward.

“Where did all of you come from?” Henry demanded, exhaling a cloud of steam in exasperation.

“Please would you just tell us what happened in the end?” Asked Thomas.

“Then we will leave,” Emily added.

“Oh, very well,” Henry agreed.

“The ending is simple enough. The machine didn’t work. The lady engine was sent away and the Fat Controller is, well, as we know him now.”

“But where is the machine?” Gordon asked.

Henry rolled his eyes.

“Blocked up in the old mine apparently. Except, of course, it isn’t, because the story isn’t true!”

 

There was a collective sigh from the gathered engines, and as they steamed off one by one they were each filled with thoughts of the story. The idea of being human for a day bubbled in their boilers. But Gordon thought about it most of all.

“I’m going to find it!” He announced.

“There is nothing to find,” Henry drawled.

“Well, we will see,”

“I don’t think we will!”

“You stay out of it then!”

“There’s nothing to stay out of!”

“Well you can stay off my rails to begin with.”

“You will find these are my rails!”

And with a great deal of bickering the two large engines went steaming off towards the disused mine. By the time they arrived each of them had bumped the other so much that they had paint missing.

“Run along and let a big strong engine deal with this,” Gordon said to Henry.

“I beg your pardon!” Replied Henry, giving Gordon such a shunt to the tender that he went rolling forward and straight through the boards blocking the entrance to the mine.

“Stop, both of you!” I shouted.

Both engines blinked sheepishly in the dark of the mine. As my eyes adjusted, I saw that the old tunnel led on to a wider chamber ahead. Wordlessly, we rolled forward, wheel turn by wheel turn into the strange and secret room. I pulled down a large and rusty old switch. With a hum and flicker the room was flooded with yellow electric light.

“Bust my buffers!” Exclaimed Henry.

“It is true!” Gordon said triumphantly.

 

I just stared. The machine. It was there in front of us, in all it’s strange glory. Like a great turntable, with tracks leading on and off, and with a crackling glass and metal dome in the middle.

Gordon didn’t hesitate, pumping his pistons in excitement.

“Fire it up!” He cried.

Running my fingers over the tarnished controls, I took my best guess at how to bring the Inverter to life. Electricity crackled, leaping from wire to wire, lighting the steamy air like a storm. But nothing was happening to Gordon. His sleek lines and smart blue paint remained the same.

“I can’t work it!” I sighed crossly.

“Wait,” said Henry, “there are two spaces that must be filled. Gordon is filling one, but the other is empty.”

“You mean here?” I asked, stepping into the empty side of the machine.

And then there was trouble.

 

The air fizzled and the metal floor beneath us lifted. Then, with a creak and a clatter of rusty parts it clicked and began to spin. The air tasted of sulphur and steam and iron and I realised that I was screaming, or was Gordon whistling? Slowly, the dust settled.

“Oh my,” Henry gasped.

Gordon stood, incredulous. He stared at his hands and then ran them down his chest. No metal, no pistons, no wheels. No funnel, no whistle and no steam! Instead of paint, he was clothed in a fitted suit in his signature blue. I went to step toward him, but I was somehow too heavy to move. I tried to look down, but my neck was stiff for some reason.

“Gordon,” I called, “I can’t move. You look great though.”

He stared at me and his eyes sparkled with desire.

“Oh now…. you… you look glorious!”

Then I understood what had happened. Obviously the machine had worked and everything was…. inverted.

“Describe me please Gordon.”

He rested one finger on his lips and looked at me intently.

“Midnight blue, graceful lines and a smart red buffer beam.”

“You are a fine tender engine,” Henry observed in amazement.

As if remembering the green engine was there for the first time, Gordon rounded on Henry. A smooth, mechanical strength remained in his movements, even as a human. Gordon strode forward purposefully and Henry nervously exhaled a cloud of steam. In a moment, Gordon was inside the cab of his fellow engine, his borrowed hands straying knowledgeably over the controls.

“I want to do something Henry…” Gordon murmured.

Henry’s eyes flew wide, the light touch on his metalwork setting his boiler bubbling eagerly. I wondered if this was how Gordon had felt watching me and Diesel. It was…. exciting.

As I watched Gordon touch Henry I felt a heat rise within me, suddenly inpatient to feel the weight of Gordon inside my own cab. But he was preoccupied, raising clouds of steam from Henry as he pushed the engine to a breathless climax.

“Oh, what are you doing?” Henry cried weakly. He was overwhelmed, his boiler building with an unbearable pressure. Finally, with his eyes screwed shut and his mouth open, he let out a shrill whistle, steam rolling off him in great billowing clouds. Gordon stepped out, looking smug.

“You work fast!” I said.

“Well,” Gordon purred, pacing towards me, “I do pull the express.”

As he looked at me hungrily, I felt as if the core of my being was on fire, an aching need that only he could satisfy. But still, I lacked the power to move.

In a moment Gordon was inside me. I felt his weight on my footplate, then purposeful movement around my cab. Of course! A searing heat crackled through me, filling me with energy, making me feel as if I could do anything, as if I could outpace the sun.

“Let me go,” I cried, “ I need to move!”

Gordon stopped shovelling coal.

“Patience,” he said, you’re not up to pressure yet.“ His grip on my brake was firm but not unpleasant.

"This… isn’t…. up… to… steam?” I puffed breathlessly.

“Oh no, it needs to be unbearable.”

His fingers traced my controls, toying with the brake lever. Then I felt the wet heat of his tongue, and was forced to release the pressure as a cloud of white steam.

“There, now you’re ready,” Gordon said.

With a flick of his hand, he released the brake at last. My wheels screeched impatiently, sending me forward, speeding out into the sun. The track disappeared beneath me as I raced along the line, heedless of the confused snatches of conversation that followed me.

“Where has that engine come from?”

“I don’t recognise it at all-”

“I thought Gordon was grand, but that…”

“Should it be going that fast?”

It was then that I felt Gordon’s hands on my brake again, forcing me to slow. It was beyond frustrating, but tantalising at the same time. He steered me into a siding.

“Before we raise too much suspicion….” he murmured, eyeing curiously the bulge in his trousers.

“What are you doing?”

“Just… dealing with something.”

I felt his weight shift, one hand on my dials as he crumpled forward. His legs were shaking; I could feel it through the floor of my cab. His fingers, now damp with sweat, skimmed round my pressure gauge, then suddenly gripped hard as he failed to stifle a moan.

“Oh- he was going to-”

“Dear me!” He cried in shock. A sudden sensation of wetness on my metalwork confirmed my suspicions.

Gordon leaned on the wall of my cab.

“You weren’t expecting that, were you?” I chuckled.

“I was…. am… in perfect control.” He attempted to gather some dignity. “Best get things back to normal…. before the Fat Controller finds us.”

“Of course Gordon,” I said sweetly. But damn it, I would never forget his weakness, and my power, and that feeling of speed.


End file.
